


A True Professional

by flawedamythyst



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crack, Deliberate Badfic, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anderson writes self-insert Gary Stu Sherlock Holmes fic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Based on the Christmas Mini-Episode, please don't put any spoilers for S3 in the comments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A True Professional

Being unemployed meant an awful lot of time just sitting around in front of a computer, Googling things. That was how Anderson found all the information that he used to create his file on Sherlock Holmes’s possible return from the dead, and also how he stumbled across the Sherlock Holmes fanfic.

That night wasn’t the first time he’d seen links to it, but it was the first time he clicked on them. He was bored and a bit drunk, and looking for an easy laugh before bed, because God knows that he could use one. 

That wasn’t quite what happened, though. Somehow, he found himself getting engrossed in it. There was something oddly compelling about reading stories about someone he almost-but-not-quite recognised as Sherlock Holmes.

By 3am, he’d read enough fic to discover two trends:

1) Everyone thought Sherlock and John had been shagging. Some of them thought they’d be shagging in frighteningly inventive ways, a few of which sounded more painful than fun.

2) No one really understood police procedure. They all tended to make up policeman who were bumbling idiots and when there was a forensic expert, which was rare, Sherlock immediately showed the poor sod up by pointing something stupidly obvious out, like that all the blood was missing from a murder scene.

Anderson finally pulled himself away to get another beer and found himself thinking that maybe he should provide a realistic example of what a forensic expert actually did. When he sat back down in front of the computer, he opened a Word document and let himself go.

_Sherlock arrived at the crime scene with John in tow, after the police had already been there for several hours, doing their jobs. DI Lestrade-_

Wait, should he use a different name? No, Greg had been in the papers as Sherlock’s special police friend often enough, it would be fine. He turned up in some of the other stories, occasionally joining in with the on-going sexfest at 221B.

_DI Lestrade handed him a SOCO overall, but Sherlock just got all sneery at it._

_“I’m not wearing that,” he said, posing like a male model. “It would cramp my style.”_

_“His style is very important to him,” said John in an apologetic voice._

_DI Lestrade sighed and then caved spinelessly. “Fine, I suppose we can let it-”_

_“No!” said Anderson, the crime scene manager. “I refuse to allow my crime scene to be contaminated! We have procedures, you know!”_

_Sherlock pulled a sulky face, like a three-year-old, but Anderson just stared at him with steely determination, and he caved in. “Fine,” he said, taking the overall and pulling it on._

_John did the same. John always just copied whatever Sherlock did._

Anderson frowned. His research had made it clear that if he wanted his story to be popular, it would have to involve John and Sherlock shagging. Or, at least, being in love. He wasn’t sure he could handle writing gay sex, but he supposed he could pander to the romance lovers a bit.

_John did check out Sherlock’s arse when he bent over to put on his suit, though. Amazingly, despite his so-called amazing powers of observation, Sherlock didn’t notice his mate eyeing him up._

That was enough of that. Anderson got up for another beer before continuing.

_Once inside the crime scene, where a murdered girl lay spread out, naked, on the bed, with blood everywhere, Sherlock started doing his hunting-around-looking-like-an-idiot thing, bending over to look at everything with his stupid little magnifying glass, all while John continued to stare at his arse, until everyone else in the room began to get a bit uncomfortable._

_“Found anything?” asked Lestrade, ever hopeful that he wouldn’t have to do any detective work himself._

_“Give me more time!” said Sherlock, looking flustered._

_“He’s really very clever,” said John._

_Anderson let out a sigh, rolling his eyes. “Well, we already know that she was a ballet dancer who was murdered with a bit of china plate by a man with black hair and a red coat.”_

_“You do?” asked John, turning his eyes onto Anderson and blinking rather stupidly. “How?”_

_“Obvious, John,” said Sherlock, but didn’t bother explaining further, probably cos he actually didn’t know, the big faker._

_Anderson looked at Lestrade to find an equally confused expression. He sighed again. “Well, her feet are messed up like ballet dancer’s feet always are, I found bits of china in the cuts on her throat and the other fragments of the plate under the bed-”_

_Sherlock dropped to his knees to look under the bed. It involved shoving his arse up almost into John’s face._

_“-black hairs that were from a beard or moustache rather than head hair on the pillow and a scrap of red woollen fabric on a nail by the door.”_

_“Fantastic!” said John, ignoring Sherlock’s arse in favour of gazing at Anderson with wonder at his brilliance._

_Sherlock pulled himself out from under the bed with a piece of plate, against all crime scene rules, but luckily Anderson had already had everything photographed because he knew what Sherlock was like._

_“It says something on it,” he said. “But I don’t recognise the word.”_

_“‘Rache’,” said Anderson. “It’s the German for revenge. It was a German who wanted revenge.”_

_Sally-_

No, he’d definitely need to change her name.

_Sadie, who was the hottest female sergeant in the Yard, had come into the room while Anderson was speaking. She gasped._

_“The German plate salesman! I was just questioning him!”_

_“Let’s take him in for further questioning!” said Lestrade. He dashed off, then came back for a moment. “Thanks, Anderson. You’ve been brilliant. You solved the case completely.”_

_He left again before Anderson could say something modest about it just being his job._

_“That really was incredible,” said John, moving closer to Anderson with awe in his eyes. “I wonder, are you free for a drink-”_

_“No! John!” said Sherlock._

_“I’m afraid I’m not gay,” said Anderson._

_John deflated. “Oh.”_

_“I am,” said Sherlock, and John turned back to him, and they stared at each other for a bit in what was a really loving and romantic way, and then they snogged._

That had to be enough of the gay love stuff, right? Time for Anderson to have a happy ending.

_“Not gay?” said Sadie, sidling close enough to rub her SOCO overall against Anderson’s. “Neither am I. Have I mentioned recently how sexy and manly your new beard is?”_

_“Oh yes,” said Trudie, one of the other SOCO technicians who had been in the room the whole time but just not saying anything. “It makes you look so virile.” She came up close to Anderson’s other side, doing a bit of a hip-wiggling thing._

_Anderson smiled at both women. “Thank you,” he said, putting his arms around them._

_Sadie petted at his chest and then gave Trudie a mischievous and flirty look. “Shall we find out if his other body hair is as sexy?”_

_“Oh yes,” said Trudie, and then she pulled Anderson down into a kiss. He ran his hand over her body, feeling the sexy curves through the overall._

_“Well, I am free now that the case is solved,” he said. “Come on, ladies. My flat is just around the corner. We can have sex there without worrying about disturbing this crime scene.”_

_Before they left, Anderson made sure that Sherlock and John also left the crime scene as undisturbed as you could expect an amateur bungler to. Then he and Sadie and Trudie went and had heaps and heaps of really fantastic sex. Probably Sherlock and John did as well, but it wasn’t as good._

Anderson sat back. Yes, that worked. He read it over one last time, then posted the thing and went to bed.

The next day, he was disappointed to find that he only had 4 kudos, and a comment that said:

_This is deliberate badfic, right?_

Apparently, these ‘fangirls’ had no taste in literature at all.


End file.
